How Sam Lost the Science Fair and Won the War
by xwincesterx
Summary: For Stories4Charity run by Fandom Author's Note. For Jill! Prompt: I like hurt Sammy, heroic Dean (well really, who doesn't!), and angry John. Maybe something about a fire in house they are squatting, Sam gets hurt while trying to save stuff, Dean saves [Sam], John blames Sammy. WINCEST. Pre-series. Longish one-shot.


**How Sam Lost the Science Fair and Won the War**

**AN: For Stories4Charity run by Fandom Author's Note. **

**Prompt from Jill: I like hurt Sammy, heroic Dean (well really, who doesn't!), and angry John. Maybe something about a fire in house they are squatting, Sam gets hurt while trying to save stuff, Dean saves [Sam], John blames Sammy. **

**AN2: Takes place pre-series. I don't really ever do pre-series, but I feel like this needs to be the timezone for the particular idea I have in mind. Hope I do this prompt justice!**

**AN3: I appreciate all reviews! But please keep in mind that for whatever reason, I am NOT getting email notifications or even anything in my inbox on the website. So I only ever see them if I go back to my story. So if it takes a bit for me to respond, please bear with me :)**

**.~*~.**

Dean grabbed a beer from the fridge, turning to see his brother as he worked on his science fair project. He leaned back on the counter, just watching him as he worked. Sam was so excited. He'd missed out on the other opportunities for science fairs. Freshman and sophomore years they had ended up leaving town, as usual, right before he got the chance. Sure they'd been moving around a lot this year, too, but they happened to arrive at just the right time of the school year in order for Sam to enter, and they'd had a slow couple of months on the supernatural side of things. So they were in no threat of having to bolt out of town anytime soon.

Dean was always happy to see Sam happy about something; anything. It was rare, especially since Sam had hit puberty. Everything was a battle. He was always picking a fight with their dad, and Dean was always stuck being a mediator. Honestly, the job kinda sucked. He loved his dad, but the man was tough. He was bitter and relentless, his life devoted to revenge, and Dean knew that he and Sam were raised to take part in it. Sam had said that on occasion to Dean. Dean always told Sam that he was okay with that, and Sam would tell him that that was because Dad had made him believe it was true.

Sometimes Dean wondered if Sam was right.

Of course, sometimes Dean wondered if Sam fought their father just because he was stubborn. Just because he didn't want to be told what he had to do.

Dean kind of hated that. At the same time, though, he kinda loved it, too. Sam had something Dean didn't, and that was the balls to stand up to their dad on a daily basis. He wasn't sure why, but he was kinda terrified to challenge John. He didn't have someone to step in the middle of them if he did. Sam was too young. Dean would never put him in that situation. But Dean was always there to step in when it looked like John was a hair away from throwing Sam across the room just to get him to shut up. Not that he'd ever done anything like that, but Dean could picture it happening. Their dad was scary. They had watched him destroy things, behead things, blow them away.

Sometimes Dean wondered how far John would go if Dean wasn't there to intervene.

"What're you staring at?" Sam asked without even looking away from his project.

"A gigantic nerd," Dean replied without a moment of hesitation.

"Jerk," Sam said as he met his eyes and shook his head.

"Bitch," Dean replied with a grin, pushing away from the counter to come closer to the table. "So what the hell is this thing?" he asked as he bent over the huge setup.

"It's...would you—hey back up or you're gonna spill beer on it!" Sam said, pulling Dean away from the table.

"Chill out, spazoid," Dean laughed. "I don't spill beer. That's a waste. Now tell me what the hell this thing is."

Sam let out a frustrated yet resigned sigh. "It's a representation of how power lines work in modern-day suburban and rural cities," he explained. Dean looked back down at the project. It covered a four-by-four foot table, and now that he had a closer look, he could see all of the little houses and shops Sam had made. There were even utility poles with little power lines running through the the entire city.

"Pretty nice little setup you got here, Sammy," he said. "You can play with your dolls in it."

"Shut up," Sam sighed. "And quit calling me Sammy. My name is Sam."

"Yeah, yeah, Sammy. So when's the fair? I thought it was a science thing, not an art thing..."

"It _is _science, Dean," Sam retorted. "It actually works, ya know. It's not just a model."

"Works how?" he asked with a raised brow.

"Wanna see?" Sam grinned, suddenly a bit excited again.

"Yeah sure, why not," Dean said as he pulled up a chair.

Sam waited for him to be seated. "Ready?" he asked. Dean nodded. Sam pushed something on the side of one of the little houses. There was a strange, faint humming that sounded right before the little houses and shops began to light up. "I...I know it doesn't really look that amazing or anything," Sam told him. "But all of the wires are connected to each building, just like in a city. And I even hooked it up to solar panels here along the side, and they recharge every day, so if the power source—which in this case is a battery pack—fails, the city will still have power for up to twelve hours. I was thinking about maybe adding some windmills or something, but I'm running out of time. I've been working on this for like six weeks and-"

"Dude, it's awesome," Dean assured him, stopping his nervous, almost defensive explanation. "You did a really good job, man. No way you're walking outta that science fair without first place."

"You think so?" Sam asked with a smile so big and bright, Dean had trouble stopping himself from pushing him up against the wall and devouring it...

And he immediately forced himself to look away, because that was just the _wrong fucking way_ to be thinking about his brother. "Yeah of course I do," he said with a smile, reigning himself in before he looked back up at Sam. "And when you win, I'm taking you out to celebrate. Gonna brag to every stranger we see about how smart my little bro is."

He didn't expect the pouncing hug Sam gave him. It almost knocked him to the floor when his overgrown sasquatch of a 17 year old brother latched onto him like he was still a four-foot-nothing, eighty-pound little squirt. And damn but it had been a while since Sam had hugged him; the awkwardness of puberty and being a teenager, having pushed him away from all the stuff he used to do when he was little and only ever thought of his dick as something you needed for urinating. Back then, Dean had missed the distance, the separation. It had only been about a year, now, that he was grateful for it. It was Sam's birthday when Dean realized that some of his thoughts and feelings toward Sam were not exactly brotherly.

It's funny, really, how one little passing thought could plant itself—even when you try and ball it up, bag it, and bury it—and blossom into something huge and nearly impossible to hide. That's what had happened to Dean, anyway. He saw Sam one day, really _saw _him, and it made him feel things he shouldn't feel. He tried to shut it down right then and there, but it started showing up in his sleep, in his dreams. It was little things, really. Hugs that lasted longer than necessary. Then the kissing, which really kinda pushed it over the edge into fantasies that left him waking up out of breath and in need of clean boxers.

And really he shouldn't be letting himself remember all of those dreams while his brother was wrapped around him practically like an octopus. He really _really _shouldn't be hugging him closer. And Jesus...he should definitely not maneuver his face and press his lips against Sam's...

Yet that's exactly what he does. And it's less than a second before he realizes he actually did it, and he's pushing away, eyes darting all over the place in effort to avoid Sam's. "Fuck...fuck, Sam, I'm sorry. Jesus...what the... Fuck..." he can't think of anything else. He can't summon words. All he can think is how badly he'd just fucked up.

"Dean," he heard Sam say, but his phone is ringing in his pocket now, and it's the perfect excuse to stall the inevitable hatred Sam was getting ready to spew.

"Dad," Dean said as he answers the phone. He's the only one with the number besides Sam.

Sam stood there watching Dean's back as he talked to their dad on the phone. A hundred thoughts were running through his brain, but perhaps the most prominent was the feeling of hope and excitement that came from the notion that Dean might like him the way Sam had always liked Dean. The way Sam had always been so scared to ever tell anyone about, because he thought it made him a freak.

Sam had always loved Dean. He was pretty sure he'd been _in-_love with him since as far back as he could remember, too. Always. When he'd hit puberty, it had been more difficult to hide. The first time he had ever gotten hard was from seeing his brother come out of the shower in nothing but a towel. Sam didn't even know what was happening at the time. He had been sitting at the table with a math book open to do his homework, and when the bathroom door opened, he looked over, found himself mesmerized by the sight of the droplets of water on his brother's skin, and the zipper on his hand-me-down jeans was suddenly and painfully digging into his cock. When he realized what was going on, he had run to the bathroom before Dean could tell what had happened.

Sam had been so determined to stop himself from having those kinds of thoughts about Dean. He couldn't let himself get too close to him. Hugs were no longer something he could afford to give him, not when there was no hiding the secret anymore. Stupid penis and its stupid mind of its own. He had even started to read up on psychology and what might be wrong with him, trying to find answers on how to make the feelings go away. At one point, he'd come to the conclusion that maybe it wasn't Dean. Maybe Sam just wasn't interested in girls, and he'd never been in one place long enough to get to know a guy.

So he tested it out.

The next school he was enrolled in, Sam caught a guy checking him out in the cafeteria the very first day. By the end of the week, they were fooling around. It was good. It was easy, Sam had discovered. He had liked it a lot. Daniel was the guy's name, and he was sweet and gentle and didn't push Sam into anything he wasn't comfortable with. He liked Daniel. But when they finally went all they way, when Sam came, he was screaming Dean's name. Lucky for him—and ultimately for the sake of Dan's feelings—it sounded more like "_D'n" _and no explanation was needed.

Sam couldn't help but feel like he had done something wrong, though. Not the sex, and not exclamation. He felt like he'd cheated on Dean. He knew how ridiculous that was. He really did. But he couldn't stop that feeling, no matter how hard he'd tried to push it out of his mind.

"Yes sure, okay," Dean said into the phone, pulling Sam from his musings. "Yeah, we'll see you in a bit," he said before ending the call. He partly turned toward Sam. "Dad's gonna be back soon," he told him as he went to the counter and pulled the tin of coffee ground from the cabinet. "Wants me to start a pot of coffee brewing. Then I'm gonna go run and get us something for dinner."

"I'll come with you," Sam said.

"No, you stay here," he replied, but Sam had already run upstairs to grab his jacket.

Dean sighed as he poured water into the reserve. He really needed some time to think up a really good excuse—lie—to explain to Sam what had happened. Really he just needed some time to be alone so he could re-sort some crap in his head. Clearly he'd been slacking on keeping a firm grip on reality, especially if he'd given in so easily to a silly, stupid daydream fantasy.

He pressed the brew button on the crappy, old coffee maker after plugging it into the ancient wall socket, and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and hurried out, in hopes Sam wouldn't catch up with him. He only got to the end of the cracking concrete path that lead to the sidewalk, before the storm door creaked open and slammed back shut behind Sam who quickly hurried to get to him.

"Dean, wait up!" he called out.

Dean took a deep breath in. "Told you to stay home, Sam," he said once Sam reached his side.

"I wanna talk to you," he replied.

"Sammy..."

"You're gonna beat yourself up over what just happened, and I'm not gonna let you," Sam replied sternly.

"What the hell do you know about it, huh?" Dean asked angrily.

"A lot," Sam replied. "Maybe more than you think," he added. Dean glanced over at him for a moment, furrowing his brows before looking away again. "Look..I need to ask you something before I..." he didn't want to finish the sentence. Not yet. No use giving away his secrets if this was just some big accident. "Do you like me?"

"The hell kinda question is that?" Dean asked, no heat in his voice. "You're my brother. I love you. You know that."

"That's not what I mean," Sam replied. Dean walked faster, swiping a hand down his face. "I've always wanted you to do that," he blurted out before he could change his mind.

"Do what?" Dean asked as he hurried along. The take-out place was just around the corner, and if he hurried he might be able to get out of this conversation.

"Kiss me," Sam replied.

Dean almost tripped over his own feet. He paused for a moment, looking at Sam in shock before he shook his head and continued on. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes I do!" Sam argued. "I love you, Dean, and I always have. I just never said anything because I thought I was some kinda freak."

"Yeah, well you are," Dean said, not wanting to believe what he was hearing.

"But you are, too, so it's okay," Sam said. "It's okay, Dean, because if we both want it, then maybe we're not freaks."

"No, Sam," Dean said as they approached the diner. He turned to face his brother, pushed him back against the brick wall and keeping him at arm's length. "It makes us both freaks," he told him. "We're brothers. That's not something we should want."

"Don't you think I know that?" Sam asked, his eyes becoming wet as he looked into Dean's. "Don't you think I've tried to...figure out what was wrong with me? I've tried, Dean. I've tried being with someone, and it was nice, but it wasn't you, and it killed me a little inside every time." Dean flinched at his words sounding much too familiar. "I can't change how I feel. Even when I knew it couldn't happen," Sam continued. "But now that I know you...might feel that way too..."

"Sam," Dean's voice shook with indecision. He looked at him for a long time, eventually moving his hand from Sam's shoulder to gently cup the side of Sam's neck, his thumb lightly stroking over his jawline. "Go back to the house, okay?" he said calmly. "We'll talk about this later. I'm just gonna grab whatever they've got ready. I'll be there in five minutes."

"But Dean-"

"You didn't lock the door," Dean said. "Just get back there before Dad does, okay?" he said and added a small smile to let him know that everything was going to be fine. Sam reluctantly nodded, turning to head back to the house as Dean headed into the diner with far too many thoughts clouding his mind.

Sam rounded the corner onto the street where their temporary home was. All he could think about was that kiss and what might lie ahead for him and Dean. Right up until the smell of smoke pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up, noticing that the air was a bit clouded, and once he saw the smoke's origin, a jolt of ice-cold ran through his whole body. It was coming from their house.

He broke out into a run as he pulled his phone from his pocket to speed-dial Dean. "Dean!" he shouted when the other line picked up. "Fire!" was all he could manage to say before dropping the phone and tearing into the house. He had to get his project. It was the only thing that wasn't replaceable. Their dad had most of their stuff in the trunk of the car. They could always get more clothes, and Dean had his gun on him already. So it was Sam's project or his gun, and he could always get another gun...

"Sam?" Dean shouted into the phone, fear racing through him when he'd heard the panic in his brother's voice. But he wasn't saying anything else now, and it made Dean's heart spasm painfully in his chest. He tore out of the diner and back toward the house, cursing himself for telling Sam to go back without him.

He could smell the smoke already. Visions of his mother burning on the ceiling over Sam's crib swam into his mind, and he realized that he couldn't see Sam anywhere. Sam wasn't outside the house. "Sammy!" he screamed out as he picked up his pace, running as fast as humanly possible. He questioned how this was even possible; how a fire could have started out of nowhere, and how it was already this bad. One side of the house was in flames, and as he neared the front door he heard something cave inside. The sound was horrifying. "Sam!" he called out again, crashing through the storm door without hesitation.

The smoke was thick as in poured out the open door as if it was the arm of a supernatural being. Dean was never much of a listener when he was in school. But he remembered the fire drills and the videos about staying low to the ground to avoid inhaling smoke. He dropped to his hands and knees as quickly as he would've dodged a bullet, and focused his eyes in front of him toward the kitchen where the smokes seemed to be coming from.

"Sam!" he shouted when he saw his brother on the floor, motionless. His project was on the floor about a foot in front of him, slightly broken in some places from the fall. Suddenly Dean realized exactly why Sam had gone into the burning house. Like Dean, he probably hadn't realized how bad the fire had already gotten. And really, maybe he would have had plenty of time to get himself outta there with his project if the freaking crappy-ass kitchen wall hadn't caved in and knocked him out.

Dean crawled over to Sam; scrambled really, fighting the fear that he would find no pulse once he got to him. And god...he'd just sent him away without telling him how he felt. He'd sent him away before they could talk about it. _"Be okay," _he said in his head. _"Be okay and I swear I'll tell you everything..."_

Before he even reached him, Sam started coughing.

"Sam!" Dean shouted in relief and urgency as the flames and smoke started to build around them. "Sammy, you gotta get up now!" he said as he pulled him, turned him over onto his back and started to drag him out.

"De-?" Sam sounded confused for a moment, and Dean felt him tense up. "Dean! My project!"

"It's too dangerous to go back, Sam!" Dean shouted, pulling him hard enough to swing him around and push him out of the front door before him. He heard sirens in the distance. Obviously someone has seen the smoke and called the fire department. That ratty old house didn't have any kind of alarm system. Dean turned back, though, despite what he'd said to Sam. He spotted the project and a clear enough path, eying the remainder of the kitchen wall and watching for any possible collapsing.

"Dean, no!" Sam shouted as he watched Dean run back in.

"Just stay out there!" Dean yelled back, slapping a hand down on the corner of the little landscape and pulling it before some of the ceiling came crashing down into the kitchen again. He rushed outside with the damaged and slightly burned model city tucked under one arm.

"You didn't have to do that!" Sam yelled, eyes filled with unshed tears as he stood there with his arms wrapped over his middle. "You shouldn't have!"

"It's fine," Dean replied. "I made sure there was a clear path-"

"What the hell happened?!" John was suddenly storming up to them angrily, and both boys turned at the sound of his voice.

"Dad-" Dean started.

"Was this because of your stupid project?" John accused, glaring with anger at his youngest son.

Sam was so caught off guard, he wasn't able to answer.

"Dad, it has nothing to do with that," Dean jumped in, setting the project carefully on its side against the tree.

"Then what the hell could it possibly have been, huh?" he aimed his anger at Dean, now, though it was still clearly meant for Sam. "I leave for one day and come back to our place burning down?"

"It's no one's fault, Dad," Dean replied sternly. I started coffee and we left to grab some take out up the street. The piece of crap must've had faulty wiring or something. Or the house did. I don't know, but it sure as hell wasn't Sam's fault."

"Dean..." Sam's voice sounded shaky behind him; weak. Dean turned around to look at him, noticing now for the first time the trail of blood tracing down the side of his head past his temple. His skin looked suddenly pale in contrast to it. "I don't feel so..." he started, but never finished.

"Sammy!" Dean called out before his brother began to drop. He reached out in time to catch him before he could hit the ground. "Sam?"

"I thought you said you were out when the fire started," John questioned, kneeling down on the other side of Sam as Dean knelt in the grass to support him.

"He went in to..." Dean stopped himself from continuing, but John already knew the rest.

"He went into a burning house for the stupid project?" John nearly growled. "I thought I taught you both better than that!"

"Dad, he worked really hard on it, and he didn't think the fire was that bad. It happened so fast..."

"You don't understand," John shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment. Dean did understand, then. It was the same thoughts that had been going through his own mind before he got to the house. Their father was thinking about that first fire that had changed their lives forever.

"We gotta get outta here," Dean said. "We need to get Sam to a hospital."

John opened his eyes to Dean. He could see the fear in his son's stature, the pained, forced patience he'd been giving John. He was scared for Sam. He was always scared when Sam got hurt. John was sure that Sam was okay. He might have a concussion, maybe some mild smoke inhalation. But if Dean was scared enough that he wanted to take him to a hospital, John wasn't about to argue with him. Especially with the amount of guilt that suddenly hit him like a smack in the face. He had allowed his own fears and memories cause him to show anger instead of concern...

.~*~.

"I told you I was fine," Sam said grumpily as he quickly got dressed. Sam had woken up in the car on the way there earlier that day. He woke up with his head in Dean's lap, and Dean's worried face looking down at him, fingers stroking gently where they held Sam's head. Sam had let him for a while, too comfortable to complain until he realized that they were taking him to a hospital. He'd fought them the whole way, insisting that he was fine.

"_A freaking ceiling beam caved in and knocked you out," _Dean had argued. _"You're gettin' your brain scanned. I don't like how you passed out a second time."_

"_We get concussions all the time."_

"_Yeah well...all the more reason to get it checked out."_

Sam had reluctantly agreed, if for nothing more than to get Dean to stop looking at him like his was about to shatter.

"Where are we gonna stay the night?" Sam asked as they snuck out of the hospital room, slipping in the door to the staircase.

"Dad got us a room in town," Dean told him.

"He did?" Sam sounded surprised by the news that they weren't getting the hell outta Dodge as soon as possible.

"Yeah. So you can still do the science fair or whatever," Dean said as he led the way down the stairs. Sam knew that Dean had somehow talked their dad into that. Silently, he was grateful. "But he's lookin' for our next hunt," Dean added. "He's meeting with someone about an hour away. Won't be back till tomorrow night. So it's just you and me and whoever delivers to..." he pulled the key John had given him from his pocket, to read the hotel name, "Red Roof Inn. Classy."

"We catching a cab?" Sam asked as they reached the ground floor, Dean peeking out to make sure it was clear before leading Sam out into the main lobby.

"Nope. Dad actually left me the car," he said with a grin as he pulled the second set of keys out.

"Wow. You must've guilt-tripped the hell outta him," Sam said with a small laugh.

"Not really," he replied as they casually walked out the front door and to the Impala. "It's like he figured it out for himself this time." Sam quietly pondered that. The drive was silent. Sam knew that Dean was thinking, though, as he watched his fingers tap out a rhythm on the steering wheel. He was thinking and he was nervous, that much Sam knew about his brother's current state. When he pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant, Sam glanced over at him again.

"Dude, I am so not dressed to dine in somewhere," Sam said as he gestured to his sooty, blood splattered clothes.

"Not dining it," Dean told him. "I called in an order. Just pickin' it up and then we can go eat at the motel. Figured we could eat, hit the shower, the hit the hay. Or uh...maybe um..." Dean seemed hesitant to continue, but forced himself anyway. "Maybe somewhere in there, we can talk. Ya know...about stuff."

"You... Really?" Sam asked quietly, not mocking or anything like he normally would.

Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah. Uh...lemme go grab our grub. Man the car, Sammy," he said with a slap to his brother's shoulder.

As Sam watched him disappear into the restaurant, he smiled so big it almost hurt. Dean actually wanted to talk. He wanted to talk about the thing...the kiss. He was actually going to do it, and Sam was nervous and excited and...and then he was kind of scared because what if Dean was going to tell him that they could never do it again? In the five minutes it took Dean to get back to the car, Sam had successfully had an internal freak-out, flinching at the sudden opening of the driver side door.

"Dude, you sick?" Dean asked once he was in, closing the door and placing the bag of take-out in the back seat.

"I'm fine," Sam replied, trying to force himself to relax out of the ball he'd somehow tightened into.

Dean looked at him suspiciously for a moment. Then he shrugged. "Okay." And that's all he said until they got to the room. Luckily for Sam, it was just a block up the road, and the awkwardness could feel a little less claustrophobic once they got out of the car.

Dean handed Sam the bag of food and the key to the room, telling him to set their dinner up for them as he hauled in their bags of stuff that didn't get destroyed in the fire. As Sam placed their take out boxes on the table and sat down to dig into his meal, he glanced at what Dean was bringing in.

"Dad went back and grabbed what he could outta the house," Dean explained. "Didn't lose a whole lot. Your project is in the trunk still. I figured we could try and fix it later, if you're feeling up to it."

"Uh...yeah I guess we could try," Sam said, shaking his head at the mentioning of it. "It's not a big deal if we can't though," he told him.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked as he came to the table and sat down across from his brother. "Both of us risked our lives to save that thing."

"I didn't think the house was such a piece of crap, honestly," Sam said with a self-demeaning grimace. "I thought it'd be easy to get in and out. I never meant for all that to happen, and you shouldn't have risked going back in."

"Yeah well I did," Dean replied. "You worked hard on that thing and you deserve a shot at the fair."

"Not at the expense of you getting hurt," Sam shook his head.

"I didn't get hurt," Dean shrugged. "So shut up."

"How exactly do you intend to segue into talking about the fact that we kissed earlier?" Sam blurted out.

Dean nearly choked on his mouthful of burger. Sam couldn't help the smile, but held the laughter in. He waited, patient and amused, as Dean chewed up and swallowed what was in his mouth before it could get lodged in his throat. "Thanks for that," he said sarcastically as he reached for a napkin.

"Sorry," Sam replied, even though he wasn't.

"I was just kinda hoping to have some time to think about what I want to say," Dean explained. "Like...while we eat and when you take a shower and stuff."

"If you need time to think of a way to nicely tell me you made a mistake, don't," Sam said, trying to play it off as casually as possible, but Dean could see the hurt in his brother's eyes.

"That's not what I'm doing," Dean assured him. He watched the worry lines in Sam's forehead smooth out, his eyes holding onto Dean's with hope. "Just eat your dinner, would ya? Let me sit here and think."

"Don't hurt yourself," Sam joked, if for nothing more than to break the tension.

"Don't be a bitch," Dean snarled playfully, then grinned when Sam began to quickly eat his meal.

He hadn't even swallowed the last mouthful before he was heading for the shower. Dean shook his head with a smile on his face as he watched Sam disappear into the bathroom. It quickly dropped away, though, once the bathroom door was closed. Dean was nervous. He had made a promise to himself in that burning house, and he had to keep it. He had to tell Sam everything. Sure, Sam had said he loved him. But was Sam really old enough to know what that meant? Hell, as far as Dean knew, Sam had never been in a relationship of any kind. Maybe he'd had a few dates here and there, but nothing serious.

Dean, on the other hand, had been with more people than he could remember at this point. Any chance he could get, really, he took it. He was always careful, but he was never too picky for his own good. He had always had the need to get the fantasies, the daydreams and night dreams out of his system. So what if he sometimes pretended his partner was Sam? And so what if when a girl just didn't cut it, he'd go for a guy? And really, so what if most of them were the same height and had shaggy brown hair?

So yeah, okay, maybe Dean was a perv. But Sam wasn't, and it worried Dean that this might screw him up. Sam might think he loves him that way, but he might just be confused, and it's killing Dean to think that this could all end very very badly. The absolute best possible thing he could do right now would be to tell Sam it isn't real, and that it was wrong and they needed to forget it ever happened.

But Dean had promised...whatever deity was listening at that time...and he couldn't back down now.

He spent the next ten minutes meticulously cleaning up the table, taking the trash out when Sam still wasn't out of the bathroom. He went over to the door, intending to knock and make some kinda of joke about him being a girl with the amount of time he spent in the bathroom, but then he heard something. It took him a moment to register the sound. Sam was breathing hard, trying to hide it, maybe; little moans and grunts every now and again. Dean swallowed against his suddenly dry throat. He'd shared a bed often enough with his brother to know exactly what those sounds meant.

His cock was suddenly swelling in his jeans. Sam was jerking off in the shower, knowing that Dean was waiting for him to come out and talk about their secret freaking love for each other. The sonofabitch...

He made a decision in that moment. Talking wasn't really something Dean much liked to do. Maybe it'd be easier if he had the upper hand, so to speak. Maybe a shower curtain would make it more like a confessional. Dean could go in there and lean on the sink and just...tell him everything. Then Sam could respond accordingly, whatever that might be.

Dean turned the knob, and as he pushed the door slowly open, he gave Sam the courtesy of a little warning. "Hey, I'm coming in," Dean said. He heard Sam suck in and hold his breath. "Just wanna get this talking thing over with, okay? Since you're taking you time in here, figured I'd get started." He moved to the counter and leaned back against it, glancing over toward the shower curtain just with the corner of his eye. "Don't pop a blood vessel or anything, dude. I know you were rubbin' one out, so just...I'll get this over with quick, and you can get back to it."

"I wasn't..." Sam started, but didn't continue.

"Okay. Well listen... I remember what you said to me back there before the fire," he began. "That you love me. Sam...I gotta admit that I know what I feel. I've gotta admit that to you. I know that I love you. I'm just not sure that you know. I mean...I'm not sure that what you're feeling isn't just some weird temporary crush thing."

"Dean-"

"Just hear me out, okay? I just... I know you said you tried being with someone else and it didn't work out. But maybe you just weren't with the right...person," he tried to explain.

"You mean a guy," Sam surmised.

"Uh...yeah," Dean replied, eyes darting around somewhere in the air in front of him.

"Yes I have," Sam told him.

Dean's eyes widened marginally. "What?"

"I've been with guys, Dean," he said. "I tried to figure out if that's what I needed. You think I haven't thought this through and that I'm just confused, but I've tried so hard, Dean. I try so hard not to be a freak, you know? This is just one more thing...and nothing ever changes how I feel about you." Sam waited for Dean to say something, anything to try and argue the point, but he seemed stuck in silence. "There was this one guy...and I really liked him. He was a good person, and he wasn't bad looking, so that helped. I really wanted that to be the thing that made me forget about how I felt about you. But...once we got far enough...I mean...when we slept together..." he fumbled over his words because really, all he and Dean had done was kiss, and that had been for half a second, and this was still weird to say out loud. "Whenever I was with anyone, I always ended up picturing you, no matter how hard I tried not to..."

"H-how old were you," Dean asked. Though Sam couldn't see him, he could tell that he was somewhere in the midst of protectiveness, curiosity, and...possibly jealousy.

"What?" Sam questioned.

"When you stopped being a virgin, Sam. Hell, I thought I would've been the first one you told..."

"I first slept with anyone ever when I was just turning sixteen," Sam told him. "I didn't tell you because...well it turned out to be weird and awkward and... It was this girl I met at school and she was older and she liked me, but I wasn't really too much into her..."

"When you slept with a guy," Dean amended.

"Oh," Sam said quietly. "Six months ago," he told him, "When we had that place in Nebraska. We were there for like three weeks, remember? I met him at school, too." Dean fell silent again. Sam wasn't sure what to make of it, but he hoped that whatever Dean was thinking, that it would lead to what Sam wanted it to lead to. "I bottomed, if that's the question you're trying to figure out how to ask," he blurted.

"Fuck, Sam, don't...don't say that shit," Dean pushed away from the sink and paced the few steps toward the door.

"I liked it," Sam continued. "It was so much better than being with a girl. It was so much more... And right before I came...every single time, it was because I imagined it was you doing it to me..."

"Jesus...Jesus," he heard Dean's head hit the door and he peeked out the side of the shower curtain to see Dean palming the front of his jeans. He smiled, triumphant and excited at once.

"Know why I'm taking so long in here, Dean?" Sam said as he ducked back behind the curtain. "It's not what you thought. I'm not touching myself like that. I'm prepping myself, actually. Opening myself up for you, Dean. Wanted to make sure I was ready, because the moment you said you wanted the same thing I did, I don't wanna wait anymore. I want you to fuck me right then and there."

"Sammy...Jesus. You're fucking mouth..." his voice cracked.

"I'm ready for you now, Dean. I'm ready if that's what you want."

"Get the fuck out of there," Dean replied gruffly. His nerves suddenly shocked through his whole body again when he heard the creak of the faucets being turned off. The curtain pushed out of the way and Sam was stepping out, dripping wet and hard as a rock, though Dean tried not to look at it for more than a second. Dean was wide eyed, backing up into the wall as if he was trying to buy himself more time. For what, exactly, he didn't know. But Sam was closing the space between them quickly. "Sam..." Dean almost whispered, and then Sam was on him, his mouth crushing against Dean's.

For a bottom, Sam was doing a pretty damned fine job of taking the lead on this. And really Dean was okay with that because he was too dumbstruck to do anything but follow it. He could only concentrate on one thing at a time, the rest of it like background noise. Sam's tongue and teeth battled Dean's, and Dean just held on for dear life, feeling his brother strip him out of his clothes. It was once his shirts were off and Sam's hot, naked skin pressed against his that he was sprung into action. His hands run roughly around Sam and up his back, over his neck and into his hair, clenching fists full of it as he pressed harder into the kiss, causing Sam to moan against his brother's mouth.

"God, Dean," Sam said as he pulled away for a moment to breathe. His hands slid down Dean's sides and met at the top of his jeans, dipping fingers into the waistband before meeting at the button fly. "Need you."

Dean looked into his eyes, one hand now on Sam's shoulder, and the other on his neck, fingers grazing right into where his hairline started, and he crooked his fingers to catch wet strands in between them. "You have me, Sam," he told him.

"Will you let me?" Sam asked before touching Dean's lips with his own, lightly now before trailing kisses up his jawline. Dean was confused about the question. His skin was tingling everywhere Sam was touching it. The feel of his knuckles grazing over his hard cock through the jeans as he slowly pulled down the zipper, caused his ability to figure the question out on his own impossible. "Will you let me, Dean?" Sam asked again, his mouth so close to his ear now.

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean replied, not caring what the hell he was agreeing to. And then Sam's mouth was moving down Dean's neck, over his chest, swiping at his nipple and continuing downward. Dean opened his eyes and realized that Sam was getting down on his knees. Before he could say anything, Sam had Dean's pants and boxers pulled halfway down his thighs, his erection bouncing free and standing proudly almost hitting his stomach. All he could do was suck in a breath shakily as Sam leaned forward. His tongue laved up from base to tip in one long stripe. "Ah! G-god!" Dean threw his head back, hitting the tiled wall behind it. And then he felt his cock enveloped in Sam's hot, wet mouth, taking him down like a pro, and goddamn...he had only been doing this stuff for half a year and he was already this good. "Fuck! Jesus fuck, Sam!" Dean looked down, grabbing hands full of Sam's hair out of pure instinct, trying to push him away or pull him closer—he hadn't quite figured it out yet.

Sam moaned as he sucked, and Dean suddenly realized that Sam was jerking himself off at the same time.

"Stop- Sam, stop!" Dean begrudgingly pushed Sam off of him.

"Dean?" Sam looked up at him with confusion.

"Gonna make me come," Dean told him breathily.

"That's kinda the point," Sam smiled.

"Not if you don't wanna wait for me to fuck you," Dean replied, squeezing the base of his cock to stop himself from coming at the sight of Sam's swollen, pink lips and lust-darkened eyes.

Sam pushed up off of the floor, grabbing for the little bottle of lube from the shower before turning back to Dean. He stood there in front of him, his eyes looking back and forth between Dean's for a long moment. "Is this really happening?" Sam asked.

For whatever reason, a feeling came over Dean that was a lot like the kind of happy that makes you incapable of holding in laughter. Only it was different, but he still couldn't stop the breathy laugh or keep the smile off his face. He wasn't sure what to say to the question, so he pushed forward instead, pulling Sam into another heated kiss. "Get on the bed, little brother," he growled against Sam's lips. He felt Sam shudder from head to toe, echoing out in his breath before he hurried out of the bathroom.

Dean scrubbed his hands over his face as if trying to make sure this wasn't just some really amazing dream. But there Sam was, hands and knees on the bed, ass in the air, waiting for him, and fuck...he had to grip the base of his cock again because suddenly it had reverted back to level one—age fourteen and ready to shoot off at the drop of a hat.

When he sufficiently staved himself, he made his way over to the bed, stepping out of his jeans and boxers, turned Sam over onto his back, and crawled up onto the mattress, planting himself between Sam's legs. "I wanna see you," Dean explained when he met Sam's eyes full of wonder. "This isn't just a fantasy. I don't have to pretend it's you. I don't wanna forget that for one damn second," he told him.

Sam spread his legs further, wrapping them around Dean's waist to pull him flush against him as he pulled Dean's face down into another kiss. Dean groaned against him when their cocks slid invitingly together for the very first time.

"God, De-" Sam thrust up against Dean in a delicious rhythm. "'m gonna come..." he said as his fingers slid roughly into Dean's scalp, trying to grip the short hairs.

"Fuck," Dean pressed back against him. "Not gonna last, Sammy. Fuck... Need to..." Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he could stay hard if he came right then. He could still fuck him like he wanted to, get them both off again and it wouldn't be over in ten frigging seconds like it would be if he tried now.

"Ah!" Sam's hips stuttered, losing all rhythm as he shouted out with his release. Dean felt the come splash up onto his belly, and he was quickly following after him, his face buried in Sam's neck as his breath groaned from his throat.

Sam was nearly seeing stars, his vision swimming from the orgasm, little aftershocks hitting him as Dean came as well. Then suddenly the welcomed weight of his brother was pulled away. Sam blinked his vision back to clarity to see Dean stroking himself, keeping himself hard as he grabbed one of Sam's legs to push it back. Sam's cock twitched at the sight, knowing what Dean was going to do, and he grabbed onto his own cock and began stroking as well.

Dean looked at Sam's face right in time to see his brother bite down on his bottom lip, his eyes conveying how much he wanted this to continue. Dean let go of his cock long enough to grab the bottle of lube, generously applying it to himself before he laid back down over Sam. His still wet fingers pressed and circled Sam's entrance before pushing in. A sound squeaked out from deep in Sam's throat before Dean whispered in his ear. "Gonna fuck you now, like I promised," he told him.

"God, Dean, fuck yes...please. Want it..." he was almost whining at this point, his hand leaving his cock in favor of pulling his legs back and holding them there. "Want it so bad, Dean...fuck, been dreaming about this for so long. Ah!" he yelped as Dean's finger tips crooked and hit his prostate, sending a new wave of pleasure coursing through him.

"So fucking dirty," Dean growled, then nipped the skin right where Sam's jawbone ended under his ear. "So fucking gorgeous, Sammy..." Sam moaned, head thrown back as Dean's fingers pulled out of him and he lined the head of his cock there instead. He groaned as he began to slowly, carefully push in. "Fuck...so tight. Can't believe you opened yourself up so good for me, baby..."

"Oh god," Sam breathlessly replied, eyes closing at the feel of him entering. Not sure how to feel about what Dean had called him, but his cock wasn't complaining at all.

Dean's mouth met Sam's again, less hurried and hard, more passionate and deep as he pressed into him. He felt Sam melt under him, and Dean freed Sam's hands by anchoring the crooks of Dean's elbows behind Sam's knees. Sam's hands abandoned their post in favor of wrapping around Dean's shoulders and sliding up to his neck, pressing deeper into the kiss as Dean bottomed out.

Dean's breath rushed out of his lungs when his balls flushed against Sam's. He had to pull out of the kiss and press his forehead to his brother's shoulder as he tried to breathe. Sam was talking, soft and sexy and in a voice Dean had never heard before this day. Something about "you feel so good" and "so full, Dean" and "please...so ready. Please, Dean..." and it was that last statement that signaled him to start moving.

Dean picked his head up to look Sam in the eyes as he pulled halfway out and pressed back in again. The look of pleasure on Sam's face nearly knocked his breath away again. He started up a rhythm, and swiped a hand through the mess of their come on Sam's belly, then wrapped that hand around Sam's still-hard cock. Sam made a sound as his hips stuttered up off of the mattress, and Dean had to kiss him again. And really he wasn't big on the kissing thing, not when it came to guys, anyway. But he couldn't seem to stop when it came to Sam.

Suddenly his world tipped, and he found himself on his back with Sam straddling him, his cock still buried deep inside his brother, and Sam looking quite pleased with himself before he bowed back down over Dean, his mouth close to his ear as he said, "Wanna ride you." Dean's cock jerked inside of Sam, and he couldn't stop the sound that worked its way from his throat.

Dean's hands moved up Sam's thighs, stopping and squeezing where they met his hips as Sam began to move. Sam rocked a few times, then started lifting off, his upper body leaning back propping himself with hands on Dean's thighs behind him.

Dean had been ridden like this before, but by women, and as nice as that might've been, they had nothing on Sam. And there was an obvious difference to it, Sam's cock bouncing in front of him, and Dean moved one of his hands to grab onto it. The moment he stroked, he felt Sam's ass clamp around him, the vice grip of it almost his undoing. Someone was moaning loudly, and it took a handful of seconds for Dean to realize that it was himself.

Then he felt Sam swat his hand away right before he was bent over him again, Sam's face a breath away from him. "So fucking good, De," he said, almost whispering in his breathlessness. "Never this good...god never..." he pressed his mouth to Dean's again, and Dean's arms wrapped around his back, pressing fingertips into his shoulder blades. He bent his legs with the intention of having leverage to take over some of the work. But with the slight change in position, apparently it was the perfect angle for his cock to hit Sam's sweet spot, because suddenly Sam was curling in on himself, forehead burrowing into the pillow beside Dean's head, and arms snaking roughly underneath Dean to wrap his hands around Dean's back. His breath came in wild bursts, like hot steam hitting Dean's neck. Sam was suddenly riding him harder, quicker, and Dean met him for every thrust, hands wrapping around Sam's back to pull him tighter against him.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean urged, his cheek pressing against Sam's ear. "So fucking close...gotta stop..."

"Never wanna stop," he replied. "Want you to come in me," Sam told him. "Wanna feel you. Want it so bad, Dean, please..."

It was his words that pushed him to the edge of the cliff. "Jesus, Sam...fuck..." his hands moved to Sam's ass and pulled with every thrust up, and within seconds he was spilling out into him in waves of blinding spasms. Sam was shooting off just moments later, biting down on Dean's shoulder as he shouted through his orgasm.

Their bodies fully sated, they laid there as their breath tried to return. Sam was still draped over Dean, his lips pressing little kisses where he'd bitten down on his shoulder. "Love you," he whispered, moving his lips to Dean's neck. "Love you so much, Dean," he told him.

Dean breathed in deeply, his arms sliding all the way up Sam's back and into his hair, pulling Sam's head up so that he could look at him. "Love you too, Sam," he told him before pressing his lips to his. Gently, he rolled them over onto their sides, allowing his softening dick to slip slowly from his brother.

They both stayed there for a while, just looking at each other in silence. Sam ran his hand through his come where it had earlier landed on Dean's belly, just rubbing it in like lotion on his skin. Dean didn't know why it was hot, but it was. That made him think about the load he'd shot inside of Sam, and he wondered why Sam didn't seem to mind at all that it was there still.

Really, of all the things he should be thinking right now, that should be the last on the list. What they'd just done...would change everything. Dean would never need anyone else. He really hoped that Sam felt the same way. Even as fucked up as that might be.

"We don't have to try and fix my project," Sam said out of no where, voice wrecked from earlier. "No way it's gonna win now anyway."

"We could still try," Dean replied.

"It's okay," Sam said with a smile. "I only really ever cared that you saw it. And...it's okay if I don't win the science fair." He looked Dean in the eye. "I already have everything I ever wanted..."

Dean couldn't help but to smile at his brother's words. As he moved forward to kiss him again, he realized that he could deal with all the supposed-to-be-weird stuff later. But for now, he was going to enjoy this time with the love of his life...

The end~

.~*~.

**AN: If anyone would like a custom story from me or anyone else on the list, please check out the site, fandom-con dot com, and click on the raffles/stories4charity tab and scroll to the bottom half of the page for details :) **


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